That evening, as Celeborn and Galadriel feast with their guests, they discuss with Seregrían and Bosi as to what needs to be done prior to their departure. It is plain that Bosi is not pleased at the prospect of returning to Moria alone, for Seregrían is to travel south and away to some far doom.
“Heavy will hearts be,” he says, “when word reaches the Iron Garrison that Khazush-Khazad shall not return to us. I fear this parting shall be long indeed, with all of us under the growing Shadow.”
“Let not your heart be troubled,” Galadriel says, “for the end of these journeys is not plain, nor is the Shadow’s victory certain; nor shall it be, so long as all labor to their utmost.”
“Both of you,” Celeborn now speaks, “shall have counsel given for each concern. For Bosi and the Dwarves, the company of Galadhrim that accompanies you shall answer to you, but also bear report back to us, and in this way we shall share tidings between Lorien and Moria. Further aid shall be available to you, but not perhaps further strength of arms; for the might of Dol Guldur is about to press upon our own borders, and we shall be sharp-set to hold the line of the River.
“For Seregrían, we suggest you make your paths through Thinglad, our southern gate, and proceed along the line of the River until you find the northernmost dwelling of the Men of Rohan, that town called Stangard. Their welcome will not be warm; for the Men of that land are distrustful of outlanders, even more so from Lothlorien whose name they speak in dread almost equal to Mordor. Proceed with caution and courtesy, but remember that the Rohirrim respect strength, both of arms and of will.”
“One thing I note missing, my Lord Celeborn,” Seregrían says, “is how I should respect them. If there is no welcome among Men, then where shall I continue, and how swiftly?”
“You give yourself little credit, where your arts of persuasion are concerned,” Celeborn replies. “Have you not already fashioned alliance and good will among Elves and Dwarves? Your latent diplomacy will, I doubt not, shine once more among Men.”
“And have you not also been counseled of the need for all peoples to unite under one banner,” Galadriel joins, “by advice from old friends and new?” Seregrían stirs at this but says nothing.
“I agree with the Lord and Lady, Khazush,” Bosi says. “It took you and your clear thought to forge anew the ties between Dwarves and Elves. And you said yourself, we must find allies, and we have but to ask, remember?”
“I appear to be overruled,” Seregrían says with a tilted grin at Bosi. “Very well, when ought I start this new ‘embassy’ of mine?”
“Bosi shall depart with the Galadhrim company on the morrow,” Celeborn says. “You, Seregrían, shall depart the next day after and before first light; that will place you at the gates of Stangard at dawn after two days’ easy ride.”
“The delay is necessary,” Galadriel says, “for we bid you bear tokens with you to the land of the Horse-lords which, while not speeding your passage, will make smooth your path and aid you in ways not apparent. For tonight, both of you, take your ease and rest, for tomorrow begins your labors anew.” And the Lord and Lady rise, Bosi and Seregrían rising in courtesy, and the feast ends.
Later that evening, Seregrían sits alone on a high talan, thinking on where these new roads may take her, and what she might find at the end. She does not relish in the least any traffic with Men, regardless of lineage or heritage; all too well does she remember how many have sided with the Shadow down through the ages. She does, however, consider well the wisdom of the Lord and Lady – especially the Lady’s forbearance of Seregrían's hubris.
Dawn the next day brings partings at the gate of Caras Galadhon, as Bosi departs with the Elves who will escort him and join the fight in the Mines. Many of the Galadhrim are there to wish them well and see them off. At the last moment, Bosi spurs his mount next to Seregrían and looks on her steadily.
“I still do not approve of this leave-taking, Scholar,” he says in a vain attempt to be formal, “but I do trust in the sense of things. Therefore this parting is understood, though I regret it mightily. But I will not have it said that Bosi son of Bifur is ungrateful, nor are the Iron Garrison who, well, who have called you sister and more. Take this small thing,” and he holds out a small parcel and presses it into her hands, “and should – should our paths never cross once more, m-may this token give you memories of the times among your brothers.” And Bosi stops his stammering and kisses Seregrían’s hand once more, the Elves all murmuring with astonishment. “Dayamu Khuzan ai-menu, may the blessings of our ancestors be upon you, Khazush- Khazad!”
And Seregrían replies, “None shall ever say in my hearing that Dwarves have no honor or are unlovely, Bosi son of Bifur – Khâzash-men, my brother!” And to the Elves’ further shock, she draws his bowed head close and kisses his forehead. Bosi blushes redder than his beard and mutters something inaudible as he turns and rides off with the Galadhrim for Moria, glancing back over his shoulder several times before rounding the bends, lost from sight.
Seregrían stands still, watching the caravan until it fades from view, the Elves returning through the gates and muttering about what they just witnessed. Standing alone, she looks at the parcel in her hands, and opens it – and laughs loud and merrily amid sudden tears. For inside the parcel is a pouch containing four small dark seeds, and a parchment written by Svanr and Thalfi: instructions on how to plant, raise and prepare coffee.
